


Centerfold

by Adara_Rose



Series: Seashelly Fictober 2018 [9]
Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)
Genre: Fictober, Fictober 2018, First Meetings, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Nude Modeling, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: Shelly is a disillusioned photographer. Jefferson is his latest model.And as clothes get off, the temperature goes up...





	Centerfold

This wasn’t what he had planned his life to be, Shelly thinks as he decides which camera to use. But money is money, and he has bills to pay. So since taking dirty pictures for equally dirty magazines pays the big bucks, he isn’t complaining. Much. It’s mostly the models that deserve to complain. Either high-strung strung out, or plain old jerks. Sometimes he wants to tell them that there’s nothing fancy about taking your clothes off for money. Even if you aren’t spreading your legs, you most definitely are getting screwed.

 

He has shot a few “models” today, girls with perky tits and big eyes, eager to please, some of them deluded enough to come onto him. Probably hoping that fucking the guy who takes the photos means they get more jobs. He is tempted to tell them that he has no say whatsoever, just points his camera where he’s told to point it.

 

No, definitely not what he had thought his life was going to be.

 

Lunch consists of his usual cheese and pickle sandwich, and after lunch, there is only one more model booked this day. Some kid whose name he has already forgotten, but is probably big and muscly and thinks he’s god’s gift to women. They usually do. Shelly might or might not feel diminished by them. With looks like his — or lack of looks — it’s kind of hard not to be.

 

So when he comes back into his studio the man waiting for him is a complete surprise. First off, he’s younger than normal. Somewhere in his early twenties, Shelly estimates. He’s also quite a bit thinner, but Shelly can’t get a good look on the kid’s body since he’s in the same ugly robe that most of the models use. He’s got big brown eyes and pouty lips that will look fantastic in the magazine, the kind of mouth that will have women panting to kiss and men panting to get their dicks in. Shelly, to his secret horror, instinctively wants to do both. He isn’t usually this unprofessional.

 

“Hello,” he says, hating how nervous he sounds. Normally, he’s able to step into the role of the professional photographer that doesn’t care about anything but a good shot, but for some reason that isn’t happening now.

Especially when the man in front of him has the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life.

“Hello!” Is the bright reply, “I’m Jefferson. I can’t begin to tell you how stoked I am to work with you, they say you’re fantastic!”

Laying it on thick, isn’t he? Shelly still feels his cheeks heat and hates himself a little.

“Thanks.” he murmurs, looking determinedly down at the camera. “Please remove your robe.”

To his surprise, the robe isn’t just thrown to the floor like it is usually. Instead, it’s removed carefully, then folded, then the kid — Jefferson — looks around as if wondering where he can put it.

“Over there” Shelly says and gestures to a fold-up chair against the wall. When Jefferson goes over to it, Shelly can’t help but stare at his ass in a pair of tight black briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

“Do you want me to take them off?” Jefferson asks when he notices where Shelly’s gaze is going. His fingers are already under the waistband.

“No!” and that most definitely is  _ not _ a squeak, thank you very much.

“Okay.” Jefferson shrugs, which is even more distracting than his smile. “How do you want me?”

“Naked in my bed” Shelly carefully does not say, but he’s thinking it. Then he feels ashamed. With a body like his, big and unsightly and with at least thirty pounds too many — mostly around his middle — he has no right to drool over someone as young and beautiful as the man looking at him expectantly.

“Please lie down on the couch,” he says trying not to let on that his hands are shaking. He’s had urges before, of course, he’s a grown man, but never like this. He wants to go over to that couch, fall to his knees, and lick the stomach muscles that are more pronounced now that Jefferson is obediently lying down on it.

Then he wants to bury his face between the man’s legs and suck the cock he just knows is as beautiful as the rest of him.

 

But all he does is direct Jefferson into the position he wants him; sprawled over the couch as if asleep, one arm under his head and the other thrown over the backrest, eyes half-closed as he looks at the camera with sleepy eyes, inviting the person behind it to come and lie down with him. And Shelly wants to, wants it so bad. But he knows the look isn’t for his benefit; it’s for the camera. 

 

He takes multiple shots, then directs Jefferson to a sitting position, arms resting on the backrest as his legs are splayed out, briefs straining to cover what is starting to look like an erection. Shelly ignores it; it’s not unusual for models to get turned on in these situations. It never means anything. 

“Look at me like you want to fuck me” he orders and raises the camera again. The look on Jefferson’s face turns sultry, his lips part just a little, eyes become smoldering. He really  _ does _ look like he wants to fuck him, and a thrill of desire rushes through Shelly. He has to remind himself, very firmly, that it’s fake.

 

After a few more poses on the couch, he directs Jefferson over to what looks like a roman pillar but is really just a prop. 

“Lean against it, arms above your head.” He instructs and Jefferson immediately complies, adjusting his pose so that his entire being is screaming that he’s about to jump whoever he’s looking at. He cants his hips, lowers his chin, and gives Shelly another scorching look.

The angle shows perfectly sculpted arms, the slender neck, and the pecs, and Shelly can't help but think that he looks like a bronze statue come to life, or maybe a modern Adonis. 

“Perfect,” he says and snaps another series of photos.

 

The session flows well from that, and Shelly gets quite a few damn good shots of the glorious body unabashedly showing off in front of him. Some he might even use for his own portfolio.

Or maybe he’ll ask Jefferson for a private session. He’ll look stunning on silk sheets…

“You okay?” the worried question breaks into his fantasies like a bucket of cold water being thrown in his face.

“Huh?” Jefferson is already halfway across the room.

“You went very red and distant all of a sudden. Would you like a glass of water?” 

Shelly shakes his head desperately, not wanting Jefferson to come any closer.

“I think we’re done,” he says in a raspy tone that isn’t at all like him.

To his surprise, Jefferson’s eyes turn from worried to hungry.

“Good” he breathes and before Shelly has a chance to notice he’s in his personal space, and then he’s being kissed, good lord he is being  _ kissed. _

 

“You-” he squeaks in protest, then just plain squeaks when Jefferson’s hands find his ass and grips with firm hands.

“Do you have any idea” Jefferson half-croons into his mouth. “How much I want to pose for you… naked… in your bed… without the camera?”

“Are you joking?” Shelly manages in between kisses that never seem to want to stop.

“No” Jefferson smiles at him, that gorgeous smile that makes his head spin. “You. Me. Bed. What do you say?”

Shelly doesn’t say anything but decides that the bed is way too far and drags a very willing Jefferson onto the floor instead.

 

Shelly isn’t sure what happens after that, but at some point, his clothes must have come off. Because the next thing he is really aware of is Jefferson’s blunt nails clawing at his back, the younger man’s legs clasped around his waist, the way he cries out in passion, and how his eyes are nowhere near as scorching as the way he feels inside.


End file.
